


A New Way To Teach,This Forbidden Lesson.

by JojoAmiibo



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Cannibalism, My First Work in This Fandom, Office Romance?, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Tension, Violence, long read, ongoing work, reimagining of storyline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26675608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JojoAmiibo/pseuds/JojoAmiibo
Summary: A complete AU/reimagining of the Hannibal TV series wherein Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are professors at Johns Hopkins; and Will is a former student of Hannibal's. The Chesapeake Ripper remains active, and at large. Most characters will have some sort of role or appearance, deaths will be gory and described in detail. There may be sexual content down the line. This will be a long read and a slow burn. Enjoy, and stay tuned for semi-frequent updates! Will update tags as I go along.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	1. Fresh Meat

Wolf Trap, Virginia was having a humid June morning. Like any other morning, Will rolled out of bed, put on his slippers, brewed a quick cup of coffee, and approached his door. He took a second to look at the condensation on the glass of the door, before opening it. His pack of dogs ran through and around his legs to go sniff around and explore their property. Like any other day, Will made his way to his mailbox, but his journey was much stiffer and focused than his usual meander. He held his breath, and opened his mailbox, only to see the letter he was anticipating – no, dreading – at the top of the pile.

His mind flashed back to a night blanketed in darkness, illuminated only by the light of police car sirens. He remembered being crouched behind a car, its flashing sirens overhead, gun in hand, peering over the hood. He remembered a tall figure, with an arm wrapped around a smaller figure with longer hair, and the other arm pointing something at its head. He remembered hearing a familiar voice near him bark, _“Sir! Drop the weapon or we_ will _shoot!”_

_The taller figure bellowed something back, and the smaller figure wailed something in response. Will took aim at the taller figure. Or, at least tried to. His hands were shaking an unbelievable amount, and he was hyperventilating so bad he couldn’t spare a second to stop and think or concentrate. The owner of the familiar voice turned to him, face obfuscated by darkness, “Graham! You’re the only one who can take the shot! Don’t waste any fuckin’ time with it!”_

_What were meant to be crass words of encouragement backfired, and Will could feel his heart rate spike as his breathing sped up even more, as did the shaking of his hands. The tall figure bellowed once more, and the smaller one wailed once more. “Dammit, Graham!” the voice hissed, as the owner reached over the vehicle to take the shot that Will wouldn’t._

_Unfortunately, their previous assessment was right – they couldn’t get a good shot the way Will could have. The bullet missed its intended mark. The larger figure bellowed for the last time, and suddenly,_ bang! _Before it could wail, the long-haired figure slumped over in the larger one’s arms, then it dropped, falling lifeless to the ground. The person next to Will looked over the hood, then another bang was heard, and they too, fell lifeless. One more bang was heard, as the dull_ thud _of a standing body falling over was heard, and the clatter of a metal falling to the ground followed._

Will shuddered as he snapped back to the present. His hands trembling, he reached into the mailbox and ripped open the letter.

> _Detective Graham,_
> 
> _After reviewing the details of your suspension as well as the results of recent psychiatric evaluations, you have unfortunately been deemed NO LONGER FIT to serve the Federal Bureau of Investigations under homicide, or any other division. We are truly thankful for the time and labor you have dedicated to your service……_

Will stopped reading. The rest was all just bureaucratic horseshit politeness anyway. He got the message they were trying to send already. After that fateful night, his career working homicide cases was officially over. Will crumpled up the letter in his hands, then sighed. _Gotta find another way to feed the dogs,_ he thought as he sighed. He made his way back into his house, his head hanging lower than it did on his way out.

* * *

After a frustrating month of trying to unsuccessfully answer “Help Wanted” ads and wasting a perfectly good summer for what could have been fishing, Will woke up to another boring morning in July. He did his usual routine; roll out of bed, put on slippers, coffee, let the dogs out, check the mail. He flipped through the pile, to see another official-looking, but this time unexpected letter neatly sandwiched between the rest of the mail. This time, it was a letter from his alma mater – Johns Hopkins University.

 _Probably another one of those letters begging for alumni donations._ Will went back inside, and he hovered over the trash can, letter in hand, and then he realized this envelope was a bit more official-looking than the usual donation letters. As far as he could recall, those almost always came in the form of a postcard. He walked away from the trash, letter still in hand, and made his way to his armchair, where he opened it.

> _Mister Will Graham,_
> 
> _We would like to open by thanking you for responding to the opening for the teaching position within the Sociology Department of our Institution. After reviewing your resume, work history, education, and credentials, we have selected you as the best candidate to be our professor for CRIMINOLOGY AS.230.211 as well as CRIMINAL PROFILING AS.230.315 in the Krieger School of Arts and Sciences. By teaching these classes, you will also be given the opportunity to help in conducting research in your field of expertise, should you so desire. If you choose to accept this position, please contact Dean Crawford ASAP at…._

Will kept reading the letter over and over again, almost unable to believe what he was seeing. He figured he would remember applying to something like his goddamn _alma mater_ , yet somehow, it seemed to slip his mind that he even did so. Maybe after responding to almost every help wanted ad almost every day, he must’ve just gotten so tired of answering the same questions over and over for different potential employers. He also found it odd that he couldn’t remember going in for an interview either. Baltimore _is_ an hour drive from Wolf Trap, that’s not something he’d forget so easily, and a job like a professor somewhere like Johns Hopkins is not likely to fill sans an interview. Did he have a phone interview that he just blocked out of his memory, or just blended in with the hundreds of others he did that led to nothing? That seemed to be the only explanation Will could think of.

 _As weird as this is, I can’t afford to look a gift horse in the mouth,_ he thought, as he dialed the number given on the letter.

“Thank you for calling the office of Dean Crawford, this is his secretary speaking, how may I help you?”

“G-good morning,” Will stammered, “my name is Will Graham, and I’m calling back regarding the job offer sent by –” before he could finish the sentence, he heard the dial tone of his call being transferred.

“Jack Crawford speaking,” a somewhat gravelly voice stated curtly. Will Graham started to repeat the introduction he gave to the secretary, except this time, he didn’t make it past his name before Dean Crawford cut him off. “Mister Graham! So great to hear back from you. Normally we don’t hire based solely on recommendation and resume, but this opening came very suddenly and we need to fill it as quickly as possible --“

“Err, sorry to interrupt,” Will started. “But, on recommendation? Who recommended me?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” the Dean chuckled. “Let’s just say you seem to have some well-regarded friends who have silk strings to pull. Anyway, I am unfortunately busy and don’t have too much time to waste on formalities, so what do you say?”

Will paused for a moment in thought, and let his grip on the phone loosen, slipping through his fingers a little. “Mister Graham, are you still there?” Will readjusted, gripping the phone much tighter than before.

“Yeah. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent!” beamed the man on the other end, “The professor’s luncheon before the semester begins will be on August 10th. Excited to see you there. We’ll be in touch as you draft your lesson plans before then.”

* * *

Will woke up to the sound of his alarm clock blaring at 6 AM. He gave it a quick smack, sighed, and rolled out of bed. Today was finally the day, August 10th, the professor’s luncheon. Dean Crawford had kept true to his word and did keep in touch with Will, approving and helping him improve his lesson plans. Despite this being Will’s first time teaching, he actually felt fairly confident in his ability to do so, and had completed and submitted his final lesson plans faster than expected. He let out and fed his dogs, got dressed, and made his way over to Baltimore for his first event as a John Hopkins professor.

Once at the luncheon, Will found himself in the corner, socializing with all the other sociology professors, and yet none of them caught hold of his attention. While trying to avoid looking the gaggle of scholars directly in the eyes, he looked across the room, where he saw _him_ – Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

When he was attending John Hopkins, Will decided he would take one class for fun, some extra credits, or perhaps an easy A to pad his GPA. And while Dr. Lecter mainly did his work in the psychology department, every few semesters, he would open a Philosophy class. More specifically, he would either teach Intro to Ethics or Ethics in History. One semester, years ago, Will found himself enrolled in Dr. Lecter’s Intro to Ethics class. He found the class to be genuinely fascinating, to the point where he _almost_ regretted choosing a criminology degree. 

However, many other students seemed to find Dr. Lecter’s lectures to be somewhat outlandish, and found the classwork to be much more difficult than Will did. He always got his papers back with comments like “fascinating”, “interesting” and “Good point. See me in office hours to discuss in more detail,” getting an A on almost every one. Meanwhile, his peers complained about the course load and pulled B minuses at best. 

He would, on occasion, pop into Dr. Lecter’s office hours to enjoy a cup of coffee and a nice, civil, philosophical debate. Despite not even being technically a necessary part of his curriculum, he found Dr. Lecter’s class to not only be the most interesting, but also the most memorable. He even continued to find himself at Dr. Lecter’s office hours even after he passed the class and moved on with his degree path.

Almost as soon as Will glanced in Dr. Lecter’s direction, their eyes met. A familiar glint shone in Dr. Lecter’s eye, and a soft, gentle smile came across his face. Will darted his eyes, trying to ground himself back in the conversation with his colleagues, but it was too late. Dr. Lecter already started making his way through the crowd, expertly waltzing around the throngs of professors, until he caught himself right next to his former pupil.

“Good afternoon everyone,” he said warmly, yet somewhat dry, to the sociology department. “I realize you all must be fascinated by the fresh meat here, but I hope you’ll let me borrow Professor Graham for a moment…”

Dr. Lecter continued on with his pleasantries. Will was still hanging onto hearing his old professor refer to him as “Professor Graham.”

“Well, when you ask so politely, how can we refuse?” responded another professor, with detectable sarcasm.

“Excellent, thank you.” Dr. Lecter gently put a hand on Will’s shoulder, tactfully ignoring the tone of the other professor, leading him away from the sociologists, and outside.

“I do hope that wasn’t terribly rude of me,” started Lecter, “but it looked like you were looking around for an excuse to catch a breath.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Perhaps not to strangers, no,” Dr. Lecter chuckled, “but to me, perhaps. Regardless, I thought you attended John Hopkins due to a scholarship from a police training program. Did it not work out for you, Will?”

“Yes and no,” Will sighed, “I was put on homicide, and things were going okay, but when push came to shove, I just wasn’t a man who could be trusted to pull the trigger.”

“Shame. I always perceived you to be more utilitarian than that – but I suppose it’s different, looking into a man’s eyes and being asked to suddenly become his judge, jury, and executioner.”

“You can sure as hell say that again, Dr. Lecter.”

Dr. Lecter gave a coy smile. “Oh, please Will, we’re peers now. Just ‘Hannibal’ will do.”

_That’ll take some getting used to._

“So, uh Doctor—I mean, _Hannibal_ , how’s the wife, uh, what’s her name – “

“Bedelia?” The older professor’s face went from warm to neutral.

“Yeah her. Sorry for letting it slip my mind. How’s she been, anyway?”

“None of my business. Not anymore, anyhow. I’m afraid we’ve gone our separate ways.” Dr. Lecter spoke with no particular change in emotion or tone.

“Oh, my apologies for bringing it up then,” Will uttered, “But uhh… would it be awkward for me to say I’m not too surprised?”

Dr. Lecter cocked his head slightly, and raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Oh? May I ask what led you to that observation?”

“Well, Doc—” Will modestly shook his head once, slowly with some frustration, “ _Hannibal,_ I’ve been at your office hours just chewing the fat probably _hundreds_ of times and you’ve only mentioned her once or twice, and, if I recall correctly, only after I’ve asked.”

Hannibal Lecter took a second to ponder. “Is it a crime for a man to keep his work life and home life separate?”

“Did you _really_ consider our conversations as nothing more than part of your work life?”

“Well, students come to my office hours to debate ideas all the time, Will. It is part of my job.”

“Perhaps. But you didn’t seem to feel like you were talking to me as just another part of the job.”

Once again, Dr. Lecter paused. “I suppose not entirely. No. Perhaps I did take solace in the amusement your visits brought. I can respect those who don’t shy away from what could, perhaps, be considered morally… gray.”

“Morals… haven’t they just always been a matter of perspective?” Will gave a smug smile, throwing one of his old professor’s favorite lines right back at him.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter smirked. “You know Will, perhaps instead of treating the professors’ luncheon like my office hours, we should continue this conversation over dinner at my house, if you would like.”

Will thought about it for a minute. “If I still didn’t have to set up _my_ office, I’d take you up on that, Dr. Lecter.”

He sighed. “Very well. Perhaps next time then. Good luck then to you, Will Graham.”

“Thanks, professor.”

“Please, refer to me as _Hannibal_. Don’t make me insist again.” Dr. Lecter gave a smile and a small nod, then walked away.

 _That’s_ definitely _going to take getting used to._ As Hannibal Lecter walked away, Will audibly sighed and headed the opposite direction, back to the professors’ luncheon.


	2. Mise En Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will starts setting up and getting ready for classes, meeting some colleagues. As class starts, he finds himself in a strange circumstance.

Returning to the luncheon only felt like a waste of time, as his mind was still in the quad with Hannibal for the rest of the afternoon. As it wrapped up, Will kept his commitment to set up his office.

Will’s office was a modest, solitary room, with just enough space for him to worm his way behind his desk, which was already provided to him. Alongside the long desk, his office was furnished with most of the things one would expect in a functioning office. It came with a nice, leather chair on wheels, two smaller student chairs with metal legs and seat cushions facing his desk, and a small desk lamp with a gooseneck and a long bulb - clearly meant to illuminate papers for grading. He had with him a box with some items meant to breathe a little personal touch into the place. He put a framed photo of himself with his dogs on the far side of the desk, facing him, and set down next to it a clear plastic box with some fishing lures he crafted himself. The final personal item he set down was a small wooden carving of an elk, in the corner of his desk, facing the student chairs. In the middle of the desk, he set down a folder of miscellaneous papers and his laptop.

He checked the time on his watch. It read 5:07 PM. He sighed.  _ If I leave now, I’ll just be sitting in traffic.  _ He sat down, opened his laptop, and did a few quick tasks.

Before his sudden and unexpected resignation, Professor Jeremy Olmstead was slated to teach Will’s classes. From what Will could see on internet forums, Professor Olmstead was an alright professor, with a light course load and a high passing ratio. Will had never bothered to ask the details of his resignation; this opportunity was too good for him to really care. However, some students complained about insensitivity when handling certain topics and just being generally rude to individuals in office hours, but no glaring accusations that would necessarily force such a long-standing professor to resign.

_ Maybe he just found an opportunity he couldn’t pass up, just like me.  _ Will took this to be the truth, even just for lack of any other possibility. He huffed, then went through his roster. The students enrolled in his class seemed to have a wide array of majors, from Journalism and English to even Business and Biology.

_ Guess now  _ I’m _ the one with the GPA-padding class.  _ He went over his syllabi and slides, to make sure he knew them well enough before teaching them within the next week. He was so focused in on this, he didn’t even notice someone standing at the door until they cleared their throat.

Will looked up from his computer to see a round-faced man with gray hair and a dark complexion looking back at him.

“So good to finally meet you, Will,” he said, glancing around the new professor’s place, “and frankly, relieved to see you wasted no time in getting comfortable.”

“Oh, and you must be Dea-“

“You can call me Jack, it’s fine.”

_ I guess no one around here appreciates their titles.  _ “Regardless, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Likewise. And a name like yours carries some respect behind it.”

“I… have an astoundingly hard time believing that,” Will responded somewhat meekly.

“Nonsense. Believe it or not, I also used to be FBI,” Jack stated matter-of-factly. “Behavioral Sciences was where I worked. But then one day, my wife and I started receiving threats to our home. It’s one thing to put my own life in danger, but I made the decision that my wife shouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of my career.”

“That’s quite chivalrous,” Will huffed, almost enviously.

“I know our stories are… quite different,” Jack sighed, “but that’s not the point. What I meant was, you won’t find any judgements here for the decisions you did or didn’t make while on the force. Especially not from me.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but your pity isn’t necessary.”

“It’s not-“

“But unlike me, you didn’t have to leave the force knowing that three people died because of your inability to act, two of which were innocent.” Will didn’t even realize that he had begun shouting until he stopped.

The room fell into a thick, tense silence, neither man wanting to break it, nor look into the other’s eyes.

Finally, Jack broke the silence, glaring directly at Will. “Are you sure you want that to be your first impression, Graham?” He uttered those scathing words smoothly.

“You’re right. I meant absolutely none of that,” Will apologized, “it’s just kind of a sore spot for me.”

“I understand. Just think a little more carefully next time.” Will gave a quick, apologetic nod.

Jack mumbled something nearly under his breath, but Will could hear,  _ “Doc.. right… spirited…” _

“Sorry, if you were talking to me, I didn’t catch what you said.”

“Just talking to myself. If you must know, I was just thinking about how the person who recommended you for the position warned me that you can get swept away and spirited in the moment. And, if you ask me, we can use some more passionate blood around here.”

_ What a relief,  _ Will thought,  _ I’m not getting fired after my first in-person interaction with my boss. Wait, wait--  _ “Uh, I think I’ve asked before, but I still don’t know --  _ who _ recommended me?”

Jack started to look a little uncomfortable. “They uh, asked me to keep that under wraps, as some sort of a modesty thing.” He fiddled with something in his pocket. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll scrub my memory nice and clean of your little outburst of you scrub yours of what I just said.”

Will sighed. “Deal.”

The two men bid each other a good evening before going their separate ways for the night.

* * *

Will found himself crouched in some bushes in the middle of a forest, surrounded by the orange and brown hues of autumn. Will peered from his hiding spot, through the scope of his weapon. When he looked, he saw a hefty stag with thick fur, black as a raven’s feather, and crimson eyes looking back at him. Except, it hasn’t seemed to notice him. As a matter of fact, it was staring  _ past _ him, focusing in on something entirely different. Will turned around. Standing up straight behind him was an average-looking young girl with long, dark hair, blue eyes, and wind-chafed skin, also holding a rifle.

_ What, _ he wondered,  _ could she possibly be doing hunting here? _ In their stare-down, she made no attempt to neither hide from the beast, nor take it down. She kept the arm holding her weapon limp at her side; nervously clutching her chest with the other, she approached the beast in stride.

The stag continued only to observe her. As she got closer, her steps got smaller and smaller, until the beast was within her reach. The mighty beast huffed and shook its head, antlers pointing at the girl, kicking its front hoof in warning of what was to come. The girl began to reach for the beast, standing straight but breathing shakily, and dropped her weapon.

_ I have to do something, I can’t let her get hurt. I have to do something  _ this _ time.  _ Will picked up his weapon and looked through the scope. His breathing got faster and faster as his hands got shakier and shakier. His hands were, in fact, trembling to such a degree that his aim kept shaking between the girl and the beast – he found himself unable to shoot without knowing which one would get hit. The beast kicked one final time, then set its leg down firm, and opened its mouth.

_ BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!  _ Will woke up in a cold sweat. He rolled over and looked at the alarm clock. 8 AM. He gave the top a smack, and made his way out of the bed to conduct his morning routine. He left money on the counter for the dog walker, and jetted off to work.

Will got into his office and opened his computer.  _ First class today is…Profiling. I should probably go print the syllabus after I finish editing _ . He fixed some typos and added finishing touches before checking his watch. 10:03 AM. He had a little less than an hour before his class began, just enough time to go print some copies.

Even though he just got there, Will moved from his office to the computer lab. As one would expect on the first day of classes, the computer lab was fairly unoccupied, with maybe one or two students within. He double checked his rosters to see how many students were in his classes, and started printing the syllabus for his profiling class, queueing the criminology syllabus to print next. He walked up to the printers, to see that not one, but two of them were printing off giant stacks of papers. He sighed, walked up to one of them, and grabbed the top paper off the stack. Instead of reading “Criminal Profiling” as he had hoped, the first line of the paper read “AS.020.305 BIOCHEM SYLLABUS.” Will stared at the sheet for a second, scrunching his nose as he tried to decipher it.

“I think we guessed wrong.”

Will looked up from the sheet of scientific jargon and looked at the woman who just walked up to him. She was of average height, with long, neat black hair, with some light eyeshadow.

“Er, sorry about that.” Will set the paper back down on its pile.

The woman shrugged. “Don’t sweat it too hard,” she said as she handed one of the copies of his syllabus back to him. “I see we’re both doing the same thing last-minute anyway.”

“Do you do this last-minute thing often, Professor…?”

“Katz. But Beverly’s fine.” Her eyes briefly scanned Will. “So, you’re Olmstead’s replacement?”

“Guess so.”

“Honestly, good riddance.” Beverly scoffed. “Dude can barely hold a conversation about anything other than bow hunting, and when he does, all you can do is wish he’d stopped.”

“That obsessed with his hobby?”

“Sort of. He was mostly just a-… rude man.” She clearly had stronger words to describe him than just a “rude man,” but chose to save them for a better time.

“So I’ve heard.” Will cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “But, do you know why he resigned?”

“I wish I knew!” She groaned. “I hope it was something juicy, but knowing him, he’s probably in a cabin somewhere with his bow, cutting ties with society and pretending the apocalypse happened. All I know is one day, he’s preparing class material - then the next, there’s a nice little resignation letter on Dean Crawford’s desk.”

“Huh.”

“Not the answer you were expecting?”

“Yes and no.” He exhaled. “It’s just weird, is all. If he was preparing to teach this semester, why did he just up and quit? And has no one heard anything from him?”

Beverly blinked a couple of times, then shook her head. “Not my monkey, not my circus.”

“Eh, fair enough. It just feels like no one knows anything. Not even Jack, and that  _ was _ his monkey.”

“Keyword being  _ was _ . Anyway, I’m gonna take these and go, but before I forget to ask, tell me your name.”

“Oh, I’m Will. Will Graham.”

“Nice to meet ya, and ‘til next time!” Beverly took her stack of papers off the printer, and skedaddled. Will checked the time on his watch. 10:41 AM. He decided it was time to follow suit and bolted to his class, stack of syllabi in hand.

Luckily, the classroom wasn’t too hard to find. Will hooked his laptop up to the projector, and opened his slideshow. He scanned the room. The class had a rather diverse makeup, with very few empty seats. He checked the time. 10:58 AM.

_ It’s close enough to 11.  _ Will began to hand out the freshly-printed syllabus, then turned on the projector. It displayed the title slide,  _ AS.230.315 CRIMINAL PROFILING – PROF. WILL GRAHAM. _ Will took a deep breath before projecting his voice to the room.

“Good afternoon everyone. My name is Professor Graham. Both my name and contact information are on the syllabus I’ve just handed out. Before I came here to teach, I worked with the homicide division of the FBI, applying what you will learn here in a practical sense daily. I will warn you - if you are sensitive to any... particular topics, especially those with violence, I recommend you drop this course and don’t look back. If you think you can handle it, then stay. And if you find yourself confused on the material, either email me or come to my office hours. Before I continue to review the syllabus, I’m going to take attendance.”

He started going through the roster, letting each student respond before marking down the next. Not too far into the list, he paused. He stared at this name, one that seemed familiar, yet he knew he had never heard before.

“Abigail Hobbs...?”

“Present!” a voice piped up. Will glanced up from the roster to see an average-looking young girl with long, dark hair, blue eyes, and wind-chafed skin -- the girl from his dream earlier that very morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for chapter 3, on its way soon!


	3. PROGRESS UPDATE!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not a part of the fic, but more so explaining why chapters are churning out slowly <3\. Once I have the time and ch3 is up, this progress note will be removed.

Hi all! Thank you all for your kind words and support so far!

To get down to brass tacks, here’s what’s popping: school as well as work have been keeping me BANANAS busy, and I had to put this fic on hold to initially to get myself together a bit. Chapter 3 is mostly complete, as well as basic plans for upcoming chapters, but I don’t like publishing chapters until I have the next chapter at least half done, which has been taking a while. 

I have not stopped writing as a hobby when I do have the time, but I have just reshifted my focus to really grind on an OC project (that I will be very excited to share, if the day ever comes!). Because of this, this fic has taken a been brought to the back burner, just until things get a little bit less hectic for me, but just because it’s on the back burner doesn’t mean it’s not cooking!

I thank you all for being patient with me thus far, and have hopefully enjoyed this fic in spite of its lack of recent update. I hope that sooner rather than later I will be updating this fic, as I am still very excited to be working on it.

Until then, feel free to bully me on twitter or tumblr or wherever. I hope everyone finds time to do nice things for themselves before the next update, and see you then!


End file.
